Dancing with Belladonna
by HextheDaydreamer
Summary: I lie awake in your bed And try hard not to sleep For if I should now slumber, My spirit, it would keep. Your slightest touch is poison, Buried deep in my soul - An allergic reaction That soon will take my all. Late Birthday fic for CHiKa-RoXy, surprise!


Dancing** with Belladonna **

It was a late night or rather, an early morning when the sun was just rising over the rooftops of Gotham, shattering glass with pale orange light and chasing away the darker dreams of black and navy blue. The calling of the birds and bitter growling of the nocturne was what awaited our hero as he unlocked the door to his rundown apartment and crashed into the couch, clasping the wound at his side and cursing as his vision faded in and out. He was missing his gloves, shards of glass and thorns were etched into the flesh of his skin, his jacket had shielded him from splinters of wood although he could feel something warm trickle down his neck, a jagged scar ran across his chest and took away from all the other cuts on his body. He smelled like iron and leather, an intoxicating flower polluted his brain and he fell to his knees, coughing and groaning as he slowly peeled his mask from his face. There was a cut over his eye and the blood almost glued his eyelashes together, he hacked up plant matter and leaned against the arm of the couch, kicking the door closed and taking a deep breath, slowly down all receptors and trying to get a feel for any injuries that he wasn't already painfully aware of.

It was a one room apartment that had been foreclosed after a terrible fire three years ago; the government was slow when it came to restoring buildings such as these so it made a nice hideout, away from noisy kids and even safe from the crime of the city. Then again, most criminals had cash to burn and could build underground hideouts in the sewers or underneath cemetery's; he wouldn't do that given the fact that he was not going near another gravesite until the day he actually died and wouldn't be aware of it but, that might not happen. He'll probably blow himself up or be so detached from his family that they won't find his mangled remains and he'll become a part of the earth, an unmarked grave, utterly forgotten. It was mornings like these, when he came home broken in more ways than one, that he regretted his past actions of abandoning home, he never remembered wanting to grow up so harshly. Maybe Fate was trying to teach him something too profound for him to understand at the moment, he assumed he had some sort of concussion and his left foot was starting to itch. He opened one green eye and cursed, a large piece of wood had gone through the sole of his boot, passed between muscle and sinew, to come back out again; it would become an infection should he leave it unattended but then again, he couldn't move, he was losing too much blood and the memory of his escape was dwindling.

Poison Ivy hadn't been a pain like this before and certainly not in such a murderous mood, he hadn't done anything to her plants but she looked at him as if he was the scum of the Earth or maybe an herbicide. He chuckled at his joke and grunted, pulling himself onto his right foot and hopping around to the arm chair, pausing to stare at the phone on the table. He could call someone, he supposed, and there was always that one guy who'd show up faster than lightning. He shook his head, that guy is probably busy.

He eased himself into the chair and shut his eyes, the orange light streaking in through the blinds and striking his unprotected eyes, he sighed, imagining the sunrise as if he was home again. The second home mind you, the first was a pig sty in the ghettos where the sun's light was too afraid to visit; the sheer poverty, the dying and the dead, the drugs and the sex, young atrocities, and old bumbles of Fate. No one went down there with aid anymore because most were already too far gone and it was Crime Alley, death was expected so why bother? He remembered being bitter about it in his youth as his mother say amongst her own fecal matter and two dozen needles, screaming and rocking herself back and forth, begging for someone then rebuking them the next. His father was never home. The vigilante found out years later than his father stole for a living and met his death in a police standoff.

_Was it worth it?_ He had asked the grave, taking a drag of his cigarette and shaking his head.

_Was any of it ever worth death? _He had paused, realizing the hypocrisy of his words and shook his head with a laugh. Was killing criminals worth losing his family? He never said this aloud and understood why that had been, water had pooled under his eyes but he had blotted them out of existence before his adoptive father saw them, he stamped out his fag and spit on the grave of a man he scarcely knew.

He suddenly felt very thirsty but his rational mind was telling not to move, too much water will thin out his blood and death will only come faster. He sighed. He wasn't going to move. He was done at last.

A knock. First quiet then hammering against his brain. He would've told them no one was home but though his lips parted, no sound came. His throat was dry and his eyes were sewn shut. It could be an enemy; he thought slowly, he really should move but…

"Jason, I'm coming in!"

_That guy…huh…guess he wasn't busy._ The name was on the tip of his tongue, the tongue becoming numb and falling down his throat, he was going to choke.

"Jay!"

His name was…

"Come on, Jay, open your eyes!"

"Shut up, Penis Boy." His friend…brother?...shook him a little harder and he smirked, that probably wasn't it.

"I'm going to pick you up now."

"Go ahead, Ball sack." Why was this guy's name related to male genitalia?

So Jason, as he remembered his own name now, felt an arm go around his shoulders while the under came under his legs, his head fell back and the brother (he thought they were related now, anyways), adjusted the weight in his arms. He carried Jason into the bedroom across from the living room and placed him on the bed, running to the bathroom and pulling out the first aid kit, Jason felt sticky and wet as his brother came back and pulled out a knife, cutting the left boot off and staring at the wooden splinter. He put a finger to his ear and said "call Alfred", moments later Jason heard an elderly voice.

"_What is it, Master Richard?"_

"I found Jason, he doesn't look too good."

"_What happened?"_

Jason listened as this Richard person explained that Poison Ivy was working with Penguin and Joker who were in the midst of a small war against Mr Freeze and Bane, "odd pairing" Richard had remarked but that wasn't the point. Ivy was told to get rid of Jason because he had found out she was selling plant-related drugs to Black Mask and he was selling them to kids, something that Jason hated with a passion. There had been a huge fight and Richard had arrived just as Jason set off a bomb inside Poison Ivy's massive green house, that's where the splinter came from, some sort of tropical tree.

"_How big is it?" _Alfred asked slowly, accustomed to all manners of injures as the butler of the Bat Family.

"Big enough that I can't just pull it out, Alf."

"_You're going to have to until Master Bruce can come to pick you up, he has your location and will arrive there shortly."_

"Tell what I have to do then."

Alfred instructed Richard to snap one end of the splinter then pull the rest out, pour rubbing alcohol into a cloth and dab the wound generously before binding it with whatever material was available to him. Jason hissed and grabbed the sheets, shutting his eyes even tighter and swearing under his breath as Richard's hands ghosted over his injury, he cut strands of the blankets and tied them around Jason's foot, moving beside him and putting a hand behind Jason's head. Richard swore and Jason felt as if that didn't happen too often, the older man pulled him close to his chest and pulled the leather jacket off, peeling the shirt off and reaching behind him for a bottle of water to wash the blood away from Jason's back.

"That's cold," Jason said suddenly, opening one eye and glaring at Richard.

"Maybe if you were a little more careful, this wouldn't happen so much." Richard said with an angry smile and Jason huffed.

"I wish I could remember why you care so much." Richard paused then shook his head.

"Memory loss is common, it'll come back to you." Jason nodded as Richard wrapped bandages around his head and wiped the blood and dirt from his face. It took him a few minutes to realize that Richard was wearing a blue and black spandex costume and a mask, similar to his own, was covering his eyes. Jason found it annoying suddenly and reached up to dig a finger behind the material, pulling it off to see Richard's blue eyes. They looked worried but he was still smiling and babbling about something Jason couldn't hear, he remembered staring at these eyes before and on many occasions. He felt they were closer than brothers, closer than any human bond expressed before.

"….you know? Jay?"

"I know you, right?" Richard looked hurt and put his mask back on, both literally and figuratively.

"Yep, we're brothers." He said with a smile.

"I know that but…something's not right." Richard hummed in response and asked Jason to lie on his side for a minute as he checked out the cut on Jason's side, he raised an eyebrow and leaned over, sniffing the wound and dragging a finger along the cut.

"You aren't secretly a vampire, are you?" Jason asked as Richard stuck the finger into his mouth only to spit it back out.

"Poison," he said shortly, calling someone named Damien and sighing deeply at the boy's tone.

"_What do you want, Grayson?"_

"Cut the attitude, it's important."

"_So sorry, what's occupying your current state of mind, dear brother?" _Jason got the vague feeling that he and Damien didn't get along very well and Richard put a hand over his eyes with a groan.

"_Teenagers_. I need you to run a check on any plant-based poisons that Ivy would use."

"_Are you hurt?" _Damien asked worriedly and Richard's face softened.

"Not me. It's Jason." Damien snorted.

"_Angered the wrong female again I see."_

"Can it, twerp." Jason growled and Richard chuckled as he listened to Damien's fingers click against the keyboard, Tim was most likely there too.

"_What are the symptoms?" _Tim asked tersely, Richard looked at Jason expectantly.

"Light bothers me, can't see, balance was very limited, I think I staggered on my way up here…my head hurts – "

"There's a rash on his neck and in his mouth – "

"Get your fingers out of there!" Damien groaned as Tim continued to look through poisons and Richard continued.

"He's flushed and it looks like his throat is dry, he's been calling me weird names too. Confusion."

As Damien and Tim combed through plants, Richard grabbed the cloth from before and started cleaning the wound as Jason protested somewhat pathetically, slurring his swears and swatted at something that was in front of his face. Richard added slurring and hallucinations to the list as he lit a match and heated a needle in it, Jason groaned and wiped a hand down his face, breathing fast and Richard checked his pulse and shook his head.

"His heart rate's gone up, where's Bruce?"

"_Running over Joker goons." _Damien said dismissively and Tim made a sound that meant something along the lines of "you fool". Richard threaded the needle and stuck it beneath the skin, Jason growled and grabbed at the sheets again, sweat rolling down his face as Richard stitched the wound closed, he helped Jason sit up and wrapped a roll of bandages around his torso.

"What have you got for me guys?" It sounded like Tim pushed Damien over and he sighed.

"_Jay, did you eat anything at Ivy's?" _

"Uh…berries or something. Why?"

"_What did they look like?"_ Jason pursed his lips and leaned his forehead against Richard's chest.

"Two were black and one was green. The flowers were purple but…I think there were green tints to it." Tim groaned and it sounded like he slapped a hand over his eyes.

"_It's deadly nightshade, Dick, we've got two separate antidotes' here. I'll get them ready. Bruce is right outside now."_

Jason sat up straighter and he chuckled, clutching his chest and trying to slow his heart beat down and regulate his breathing.

"I called you Penis Boy."

"Memory back? And yes, you did."

"Have to remember that for next time."

"As long as you aren't near death, I'm cool with that."

"Thanks…Penis Boy."

"It's lost its charm, we're leaving."

Dick got off the bed and turned his back to Jason; the younger man climbed onto his brother's back and lopped his arms around Dick's neck as Dick held his legs, walking downstairs to meet Bruce in the Bat Mobile.

"…and that is why my brother is an idiot." Damien finished, pouting a bit as Jason flicked a pea across the table and hit Dick in the nose, Cassandra giggled and Stephanie looked down at her own plate, sending a pea right into Tim's mouth, he started choking and Jason got up to "five star" his back a couple times. Bruce nodded and ruffled Damien's hair as Barbara pulled Dick's shirt back and dumped her plate of peas down his back. Alfred frowned and shook his head, Conner and snickering and Clark tried his hardest not to laugh but failed miserably.

"Well, that's Jason for you, I guess."

"Do you suppose we could trade him in for another cat?" Bruce rolled his eyes and threw a pea at Damien's head.

"Tempting but one cat is enough."

"_Please_?"

"No, Damien."

"Ass."

"Brat."

Damien picked up his plate of mashed potatoes and slammed them into Bruce's face.

"Love you too, Father."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yeah, I decided to take a break on the next chapter of _It Sucks Being the Eldest _to do this. Don't worry though, the chapter is almost finished, I just like...four more ideas and I'll see if I can upload it tonight but I make no promises.

Of course, Happy Late Birthday to CHiKa-RoXy!

By the way, the poem I used in the summary was made by **_Shivirani_ **on . Read it, it's really good!


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